“And the bit—the little bit of your flower clock—oh-h! when I saw that....” Pemrose’s hand pressed her lips.
“In case the rags might blow away that was! She—she was watching me all the time; she’d have noticed if I tried to pin them down—the flowers, she thought I was just playing with them!” More mischief, more young strength, the lip corners curling up towards the curly eyelashes—dark eyes twinkling.
“But how on earth did you find your feet, at all?” cried Pemrose desperately. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to ask you. How did you begin to come through—‘crash through’?”
“I think I found the Hidden Fire.” It was almost a whisper with which Una bent to the Spring in the cowslip’s heart.